


Patchwork Confessions

by BarnesnMrNoble



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (Not explicitly stated), Clint being Clint, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Talk of blood and injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 10:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18938650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarnesnMrNoble/pseuds/BarnesnMrNoble
Summary: Her beside manners are impeccable, maybe that’s why he ends up at her apartment window. Maybe it’s just her.





	Patchwork Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the wonderfully talented and ever sweet @sincerelymlg‘s writing challenge. Thank you for hosting McKenna, I loved writing this! <3 Here is dorky, cute Clint. If you enjoy this, please leave some feedback and let me know! You can find me on tumblr under tbetz0341.

The rain pattered softly against the window of her New York apartment, it’s soothing rhythm easily concealing the soft thud of his feet against the rackety old fire escape. A mixture of both rain and his blood had long since soaked his tactical suit but he barely paid it any mind, he just needed to see her and hear her voice. 

He slid down the iron bars of the railing, leaning his not sore shoulder against the window. He could see her swinging her hips and dancing around the kitchen, pausing every few moments to return to her stove and stir whatever she was cooking. He smiled at her domesticity, it was – no matter how many times he’d seen it first hand—a bit unusual to see a highly trained assassin who he’d seen on so many occasions slam a knife into the neck of an arms dealer, cooking dinner while listening to her favorite playlist.   
He watched her for a few moments longer before deciding the throbbing in his ribs and the bleeding from the various wounds he had was too painful to wait any longer. He reluctantly, and painfully, knocked on the window hard enough to make sure she could hear it over the rain and music. He watched with a grin as she jumped away from the stove and grabbed the gun he knew she’d hidden in the drawer beside her. He chuckled heartily at her cursing once she recognized him. 

“God, Clint, you scared me half to death!” She half whisper-yelled as she slid the window open for him. He gave a half hearted laugh before it turned to groan of agony when he fell into her apartment. She scrambled to grab him before he fell but was unsuccessful, leaving them both a wet tangled mess on the ground. With some careful maneuvering, she was able to help him lean against the wall where she truly took in his current state. 

He was a mess. His hair had been mussed and dirtied, she could see the rips in his suit and blood from several deep cuts that littered his body, he only had one hearing aid left and even it was hanging on by a thread, and beneath on of the cuts in his gear, she could just make out the ghastly blue and black bruising around his ribs. She didn’t even bother to ask if he was okay, clearly he wasn’t. 

She stood to grab a med kit and a washcloth, but Clint grabbed her wrist, halting her. He stared at her for a long moment, obvious pain reflected in his ocean blue eyes, and just pulled her to the ground with him and into his arms. For a moment he didn’t care about the pain, practically everywhere on his body, only that he’d made it back to her because for a moment he had the thought that this time he wouldn’t. He’d done some stupid things, said something he shouldn’t have that got his cover blown, putting his and Nat’s lives in danger. 

She placated him for a moment, letting him grip onto her and pull himself back from whatever was going through his head, but when she looked to his face and found it paler than before and his lips pulled into a tight line, she quickly extricated herself from his arms, throwing one of his around her shoulders and hauling him to his feet. “Come on, up you get. I know, I know. It hurts but if you just let me get you to my bed,” Clint snickered, “Into your bed? I like where this is going.” 

She gently shook her head, trying to hide her laughter at his poor attempt to flirt with her. “It’s comments like those that should probably shock me, but honestly it doesn’t anymore.” With a graceful movement, she plopped Clint down onto her bed and slid his legs up as well. He muffled a cry of pain when she did, settling for just breathing heavily through his teeth. 

“Does that mean it’s working?” He flashed her a wickedly silly grin and she was unable to conceal the laughter, letting it fill the room and bounce off the walls. “Let’s get you fixed up and we will see if it worked.” She reached over and patted his hand before shuffling out of the room to grab the medicine kit and a few other supplies. 

She returned with her hands full, carrying assorted packages of frozen vegetables and actual ice packs for Clint and two medicine kits she had had stored throughout her apartment because by the looks of it Clint was going to need more fixing than what was held in one kit. However, Clint barely paid any mind to most of what she’d brought, his eyes and nose quite frankly, were focused solely on the steaming mug of coffee she had delicate balanced on top of everything else. “God, you’re a saint.” Clint managed to mutter out between pained groans as he attempted to sit more upright. 

The only reaction he garnered, not at all what he was expecting, was a high raised brow and a questioning look. “And who said this coffee was for you? You are the one that scared me half to death, is currently bleeding on my bed, and is making me take time to stitch him back up.” She jutted out a hip, standing with the attitude he knew and loved about her, but he couldn’t help but deflate a little. He needed coffee, bad. Or maybe alcohol, or both. Both would be nice. 

She watched his expression drop, and knew she was in for it. If there was one thing Clint was good at, and one thing she couldn’t resist, it was Clint’s ‘kicked puppy look’. Hating herself for it, but doing it anyway, she caved. “No, I’m just kidding. Go ahead, you look like you need it a lot more than I do, but you owe me. Next time we go out for coffee?”

He nodded thankfully and reached out for the coffee cup, downing it very quickly given how hot it had been. She handed him the water bottle she had tucked underneath her arm, along with some painkillers and placed a few of the ice packs on the worst of his bruising giving the pain meds a moment to kick in. 

Once she could tell the soft haze in his eyes had appeared, the painkillers taking effect, she started stitching up his wounds. She spoke to him idly, keeping his drug hazed mind off what she was doing, talking about anything she could think of, knowing he wouldn’t remember much come the next morning.   
“You are a crazy, crazy man and it baffles me some days how much I care for you. I don’t know what it is,” She sighed lazily and reached behind her to grab the medical tape to keep down the wraps on his ribs. “I just wish you’d see it.” 

Once she finished doing all she could for him without taking him to a doctor, she put away the kits, and ice packs and dropped off the coffee mug in the sink before returning to her room where Clint was lying peacefully. She threw back the covers and slipped in, making sure he was also comfortable before resting her head on her pillows and staring at the ceiling. 

“I do see it you know. I care about you in the only way a crazy, crazy man like me can.” Clint’s hand reached out, grabbing onto hers and lacing their fingers together. He rolled over, crashing his lips to hers before abruptly pulling away, and wincing at the pain the spread from all of his injuries. “Ow.” She laughed, placing a final chaste kiss to his lips before settling back into bed, their hands still linked with one another’s.


End file.
